Back to Where You Once Belonged
by cm00ncow
Summary: Sequel to my story, Changing a Mind. Not AtU, but Beatles fanfic with multiple OCs mixed in. The fab four left, but Mooncow and EC haven't forgotten. Luckily, the Richards family is there to both help and to hinder. Written with waaay too much angst and with some humour here and there.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a sequel to my story __Changing a Mind__ by request (demand) from a friend. Well, actually, she's a main character and hated the ending of that story, so I was forced to begin this one. Oh, darn. :)_

_**Chapter 1: The Substitute**_

_Falling._

_It was absolute darkness. I couldn't see a thing, but I could feel my stomach flip as I fell. The wind whistled past my ears as I dropped like a stone._

_I closed my eyes and enjoyed the free fall. I had finally done it. The elevator door, which I had tried countless times before to open, was finally conquered. It had a plaque reading: 1962. And I had finally gotten in the elevator shaft._

_Unfortunately, the elevator car was not there waiting for me. I didn't really expect it to be. I knew I had to go down anyways, so I had just stepped off the ledge._

_And then I began to fall. I should have been scared, but I knew this is where I wanted to go, where I needed to be. I had to find him and this was the only way I could._

_Too late, logic kicked in, and I realized that at this speed, I would be flattened like a pancake once I reached the bottom. I muttered to myself, but soon relaxed again. There was nothing I could do now._

_And still I fell._

Something was licking my arm. I opened my eyes and looked around. It was my dog, of course, come to wake me up to feed her. What I didn't understand was how I was at her level. She's a short little dog, and my bed was slightly out of her reach.

I tried to sit up, but failed. I wasn't exactly on my bed, but hanging off the side, somehow being held up by the tangle of blankets and sheets wrapped around me.

As I began to struggle against them, my alarm went off, playing a song I knew well. John Lennon began to sing Twist and Shout through the radio's speakers. I paused in my struggle, letting the song and accompanying bittersweet emotion wash over me. The Beatles had, by some fluke, come to the present time from their time in 1962 and had ended up staying in my house without my parents knowing. At the time, I was in denial that the Beatles were an amazing band, but luckily, my friend was more than willing to help convince me otherwise. Between her and the Beatles, my mind was changed. Then, just when I had begun to really enjoy their presence, they left. They left me and EC alone in bitter sadness. We had only recently begun to move on and accept that we still had a life to live.

With a thump, I fell on the floor in my bundle of blankets, nearly landing on Shelby, my dog.

"Ugh," I groaned. I untangled myself from the blankets and got up to turn my alarm off. It was 6:30 am, way too early for me to be up, but I didn't have much of a choice. School was waiting, and I was in no mood to get yelled at for skipping class.

Shelby let out a whine.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll feed ye, give me a minute," I grumbled, grabbing a pair of jeans from my closet and putting them on. I pulled a t-shirt at random off its hanger and pulled it over my head. Then, I walked out of my room and poured food in Shelby's dish. She scarfed it down as if she had been starving for weeks.

I stumbled up the stairs, my feet still heavy from sleep.

"Good morning," my mom said as I walked into the kitchen.

"Mornin'," I mumbled, opening the cupboard. I grabbed the first box of cereal I saw and poured myself a bowl of Banana Nut Cheerios.

"Sleep well?" my mom asked, leaning against the counter with her cup of coffee.

"Mhm," I mumbled as I ate my cereal, not really tasting it. I was remembering my dream. Or perhaps it was a nightmare. I'd been having a lot of them in the past two months. They started just after the Beatles left at the end of July and they all had that ridiculous 1962 elevator. Until last night, I had never been able to get into the elevator.

"All ready for school?" my mom questioned, trying hard to get me to converse with her. She'd been doing that ever since I got out of the hospital after my concussion.

"Yup," I replied. I really wasn't a talkative person; I'd rather live in my thoughts.

"Well," she said, putting her coffee mug in the sink, "I guess I'll see you after school. After your cross country practice, I mean."

"Mkay," I mumbled.

She gave me a sad look, then grabbed her purse and called for my brother, who was six. They went out the door. I finished my cereal and put the bowl in the sink, still reliving the dream. I wandered around the house for a while with no real purpose in mind.

When I checked my watch, I snapped out of my thoughts and ran to my room. I was late.

"Shit," I grumbled, shoving folders and notebooks in my backpack. I zipped it up and threw on some tennis shoes. As I raced past the bathroom, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My blonde hair was sticking out wildly.

"I don't have time for this!" I grumbled, then grabbed a ponytail and a sports headband out of the bathroom. I put my hair into a quick ponytail as I raced up the stairs. I grabbed my iPod off the counter, then raced out the door and onto my bike. Although I was 16, old enough for a driver's license, I had no interest in cars or driving. Except at times like this when driving might actually get me to school on time.

I sped down the road, my iPod blasting music in my ears. I pedaled as fast as I could, grateful that the school was only a mile and a half away from my house. As I was biking furiously, the song changed to the Beatles. It was Golden Slumbers. I fought back my tears, determined not to walk into school crying. That song always got to me. I supposed it always would.

After a while, the school came into view. I checked my watch again and found that I had seven minutes before I had to be in class. It was possible I'd make it.

I did end up making it on time, but just barely. The bell rang as soon as I stepped into the classroom. I quickly took a seat, setting my math book and notebook on the desk.

"Good morning, class!" the teacher, Mr. Boulder exclaimed, looking far too awake and excited.

There was a mumbled "good morning" from half of the class.

"So, this morning, as I left for work, I read a license plate that said: PIE 314. Then, I got that song stuck in my head, you know the pi song?" Mr. Boulder started off with his usual off-topic story time, "No? Well, I'll have to find it and show it to you guys before we do anything else!"

He hooked his laptop up to a projector and began turning it on. I sighed and rested my head on my arms. I hated math, but I'd rather he just give us our homework right away and shut up. Knowing Mr. Boulder, we would get our assignment as the bell rang to get out of class. I closed my eyes and tuned the class out, knowing I wouldn't miss much.

_This time, I was in a box. No, not a box, it was the elevator car! I had finally gotten into it! But it wasn't moving down to where I knew I had to go. I traced my hand along the buttons to the side of the door. They were all random numbers, and as I touched them, they voiced what number they were._

_"Maybe…" I mumbled to myself, pushing four buttons: 1, 9, 6, and 2. The elevator lurched downwards, then went at a steady pace down._

_"Yes, I did it!" I said excitedly to myself. I would be able to see him again! I could barely keep myself still as the elevator slowly lowered. I heard the murmurings of people, assumedly through the walls of the elevator as it went past the levels._

_Suddenly, it stopped. The door opened and I stepped out slowly. There was no light. A hush fell upon the room._

_"H-hello?" I called out. There was no answer. I turned back to the elevator, but there was nothing there anymore. Just more darkness. I took a step forward, flailing my arms in front of me to figure out if there was anything I'd run into. My arms hit a wall, and I leaned against it gratefully._

_WHAP!_

_I jumped up…_

…to see Mr. Boulder standing in front of my desk with a grin on his face. His ruler was lying on my desk with his hand still gripping one end. The rest of the class was giggling.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked.

"Uh, not really," I replied, uncertain of whether I was in trouble or not. Before I could find out, the bell rang.

"Make sure to do page 105, every even problem!" Mr. Boulder called out to the class as they all jumped out of their seats. I followed the crowd, on my way to English class.

"Courtney!" I heard someone call my name, but it didn't register that they might be calling for me. There were so many Courtney's in this school that I didn't answer to random people yelling it in the hallways anymore. "Courtney! Hey, MOONCOW!"

I spun around to see EC speed-walking towards me.

"Oh, hey," I said, walking in her direction. We were going to the same class, so I could walk with her.

"Courtney," she said, a worried look on her face, "We have a substitute teacher for English today."

We started up the stairs as I said, "Oh, we do? Well, hope she's nice."

"No, that doesn't matter," she said, "What matters is what she's making us do today. Courtney, she's a hypnotist."

I laughed drily, the only laugh I had been able to manage these days. "A hypnotist? No problem."

EC grabbed my shoulder with her free hand. "It is a problem. Don't volunteer, ok? If we volunteer, people will know who we were with this summer, and bad things will happen."

Despite how vague she was and how little faith I had in hypnotists, I felt chills down my back. "Alright, no volunteering, got it."

EC let go of my shoulder and gave me a relieved smile. We continued to class, taking our usual seats in the back of the room.

A minute or two later, the bell rang and a woman with an intense stare, even under her heavy glasses, strolled up to the front of the room.

"Good morning, juniors," she greeted us, "Today, we're taking a break from English to observe hypnotism at its finest!"

There were a couple of snickers from various people in the class. I was one of them. I wasn't a big believer in hypnotism. Time travel, well, that was a different story.

"Oh, so you don't think it's possible?" the substitute teacher asked smugly, "Well, I'll have to prove it to you then, won't I?"

A couple eager hands went up, volunteering to be hypnotized. One boy even began a round of "pick me, pick me, pick me!"

The teacher surveyed the room, oblivious to the eager volunteers. "Ah," she said, eyes narrowing on me, "I'll use this doubtful person. Come on up, it won't hurt."

EC nudged me and gave me a fearful look.

"No, that's ok. I'd rather not," I said, staying in my seat.

The teacher's intense gaze turned stern as she gestured for me to come up and be her volunteer.

I tried again. "No, really, I don't want to. But I think Logan does," I suggested, waving my hand towards the excited boy who was still muttering excitedly that she should pick him.

"No, young lady, you must participate in class," she said, a steel edge entering her voice.

I glared back at her, putting a defiant look on my face. She glared right back, and I realized she wasn't going to let me off the hook. I sighed and rolled my eyes, getting up out of my seat. EC's eyes widened and she shook her head slightly at me.

"Relax, I won't say anything," I muttered in her direction. I walked up to the front of the class where this mysterious substitute teacher waited.

"Thank you," she said arrogantly. Then she gestured towards a chair in the front of the class. I plopped down into it and crossed my arms.

"Let's get this over with," I muttered crossly. She kneeled in front of my chair.

"Listen carefully," she whispered so the rest of the class wouldn't hear. Her voice had become soft and cooing. "I want you to clear your mind. Or better yet, think of your favorite place to be." An image of EC, the Beatles and I under the bridge popped into my mind, but I quickly pushed it aside, not willing to give in. "Alright, now smell the smells of that place. Close your eyes and imagine it."  
I couldn't help it; I closed my eyes.

"Feel that place. Listen to the sounds there. Place yourself amidst that place. Good, now look around at your surroundings. You see them, right?"

Before I could stop myself, I muttered, "Yes." I was imagining the scene under the bridge. I tried to push it away, tried to be defiant, but it wouldn't budge.

"Good, good. Now, breathe in the air." I took a breath against my will. "And tell me what it smells like."

"River water," I mumbled. I had lost control completely. "And him. He smells good."

"Him? Who is he? What's his name?"

"John," I sighed happily.

"Ok, tell me more. What do you see?"

"Paul. He's with EC," I slurred. My mind had turned to putty, leaving this woman completely in control. "And George. And Ringo. And John's with me."

"Very nice," she cooed, "Now, will you tell me more about them? What does this John look like?"

I smiled. "He's perfect. His eyes are brown, and so is his hair. He's my height."

"I see. Does he have a hooked nose?" She sounded intrigued now.

"Yes," I replied happily, "He has the best looking hooked nose I've ever seen."

"Do you know what his last name is, this John?" she asked.

"Yeah. Lennon."

Another voice entered my mind, this one was screaming, but it sounded faint to my ears. I was looking at John in my mind, grinning at him as he smiled back.

There was suddenly a sharp pain in my shoulder, as if someone was pulling on my arm as hard as they could. I felt myself falling and saw the elevator again. Then, I felt my body hit the floor.

"Ow," I said, opening my eyes. EC was pulling my arm angrily, and I had no idea why. "What are you bl-" I reminded myself I was a Minnesotan and that Minnesotans didn't use British words, "What are you doing?"

"You bloody retard!" EC hissed, "You said you wouldn't say anything! We have to go, they're calling the psychiatrist already!"

I got up and held her still, aware that the whole class was watching us with interest. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You told about Lennon," she hissed, struggling to pull me out the door.

"I didn't," I said, but looked around the room. Sure enough, there was a student on the phone, addressing someone with the title of Doctor. Everyone else was giving me superior looks, as if I had sunk below their level. They were looking at me like I was mad. "Shite, I did, didn't I…"

I looked at EC, then rushed out of the room at her side.

"Hey!" the substitute hollered after us, "Get back in class!"

We ignored her, leaping down the stairs and sprinting out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Return to the Mad House**

We burst out the doors. I ran to my bike and got on.

"What am I supposed to do?" EC asked. She had taken the bus to school, so her bike wasn't there. I thought for a second. That second was all I had, because our vice principal burst out the doors after us.

"Take that one!" I hollered, gesturing to a bike that had no bike lock on it. I felt bad stealing someone's bike, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

She got on it and we pedaled away towards my house, leaving the vice principal to eat our dust. I heard him holler something after us and laughed, earning myself a concerned look from EC.

"You ok?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

I smiled. "You realize we're skipping class and we stole a bike, right?" I asked, still grinning, "I didn't know it felt so good to be free!"

"Well, we won't be free for long," she said. Logic ruined everything. "They'll find out where we live and drag us off to some loony bin."

"Nah, they won't. We'll just get detention or suspension or something."

She gave me a look that told me how idiotic she thought I was. "You just told a class, under hypnosis, that you were in love with John Lennon. You're going to a loony bin. And as for me, well, I did scream some things at you that suggested I thought the same thing happened. They'd never believe us. Just lock us up in a padded white room."

I grimaced at that. "Alright, what do you suggest we do?"

EC thought for a moment as we neared my house. Then she brightened up. "I say we go hide out at Marden Richard's house."

We turned into my driveway, and I opened the garage door, considering her idea. I sighed, not really wanting to go back to that mad house. Then I agreed. "Fine, we'll go, but I'm grabbing a few things first."

"Alright," she said, following me into the house. I went straight to my room where I grabbed a spare backpack I had lying around. I shoved a pair of jeans and a t-shirt into it. I hesitated, then grabbed a pair of shorts, too.

"Hey," I said, directing my voice towards EC, "Did you want to borrow some clothes? There's no way we can make it your house before they get there."

"Sure," she said. I handed her another discarded backpack that was my school bag from years ago.

"Grab anything," I told her as I threw in all of my glasses and contact supplies in my bag. I even grabbed all of my spare contacts, enough to last me a few months. I wasn't sure when I'd be back, wasn't really planning that far ahead. Then I grabbed a notebook that was half-filled with my drawings and writings. I found an empty notebook and threw it at EC, who grinned and put it in her bag. I walked around my room, adding random things that I may or not need. I even grabbed my only pair of dress shoes, simple black flats.

"Ready?" EC asked.

I looked around and stared mournfully at my guitar. I was attached to that thing.

"How would you carry that and your backpack?" EC asked, noting my gaze, "Best to leave it here."

I bit my lip, then made up my mind. I shoved the acoustic guitar into its case, along with its tuner and all my music. I put my backpack on my back and grabbed the case.

EC looked as if she wanted to argue, but shook her head and walked out of my room. I followed her out the front door and we hopped back on our bikes and started out towards Mr. Richards' house. I was a little leery about going back, because of how he ruined our lives the last time we were there, but I knew nobody would think of looking for us in his huge house.

Carrying a guitar while biking was a lot harder than I thought it would be. The shoulder strap was broken on this case, so I was forced to use the handle and carry it by my side. Its added weight made balancing, a very important skill while riding a bike, very difficult. But I was determined, and stubborn, so I kept going.

Somehow, we made it to Mr. Richards' house without any incidents. I didn't fall off my bike, and neither of us was caught by anyone out there looking for two teenage girls who they thought belonged in an asylum.

We walked up to the door, hiding our bikes behind a couple bushes in case someone did come looking for us.

"Hope he's home," I said before knocking on the door. There was a sharp bark from inside, then pawing at the door handle. The door clicked open a crack. A wet black nose was shoved through the crack as it shoved the door open.

"Hey Arnold," I said happily, bending down to pet the Airedale Terrier. I wondered if he was as special as Lewis, the psycho cat that lived with Marden Richards.

"Hello?" EC called as she took a step inside. The lights were off, so the overwhelming checkerboard pattern didn't hurt the eyes so much.

Her voice echoed in the silent house.

"I don't think he's home," I said, "But he'll just have to deal with us staying here."

I walked in the door and set my guitar next to the checkered couch. I let my backpack slide off my back and onto the floor. EC did the same. Arnold shut the door with his nose.

"Think he'll mind?" EC asked.

I was still mad at him for making John leave, so I said angrily, "I don't give a crap whether he'll mind or not."

I spotted a flash of orange out of the corner of my eye. I turned towards it and saw Lewis, who I also didn't like very much, running up to us from behind.

"Lewis?" I asked, backing up as the cat showed no signs of slowing down.

"Meow!"

I groaned as I realized I could still understand what his meows meant. I was starting to become convinced that I did belong in an asylum.

"Your eyes flashed green again," EC commented calmly. My eyes turned the same color as Lewis's when he started talking to me. "What did he say?"

"He told us we're welcome here," I replied. I then turned towards Lewis, who had leaped up to sit on the back of the couch. "Where's Mr. Richards?"

He flicked his tail, but was silent. Just because the cat could talk to me didn't mean he was going to actually explain anything.

"Whatever," I said, flopping down on the couch.

EC sat next to me, turning to scratch Lewis's ears. He began to purr loudly, a noise that I didn't need a connection with him to understand. "Think the boys were happy?" she asked me, referring to the Beatles after they went back to their own time period.

"I suppose they made it through all right, just like we're doing," I replied. I had made a vow not to see how what we'd been through had changed how the Beatles did things. I didn't think I should know. Or at least, I didn't want to know if John ever married someone else. So, I stayed away from Beatles information and contented myself with listening to their music and remembering them as they were. I could only assume EC had done the same.

"I wish we could see them again…" she said sadly. Then, she stiffened in her seat. "We're bloody morons, you know that?"

"Oh, I knew that," I said, then gave her a confused look, "What made you bring it up?"

She smiled. "Old Esther."

I stared at her, wide-eyed, as a grin spread across my face. Old Esther was a sort of time machine that was in Mr. Richard's house. It was what the Beatles had used to get back to the '60s.

"Old Esther," I repeated, happily.

It took less than a second for EC and me to jump off the couch with our bags in hand. We raced up the stairs and ran down a hallway to the very last room. I flung open the door and stopped in surprise.

"Hello," Mr. Richards, who was sitting calmly in a chair facing us, "I was wondering when you two would be back."

I gave him a glare, then walked into the room with false confidence.

"Yes, I've been expecting the two of you," he repeated, nodding.

"Oh, yeah? And why is that?" I snarled, "Are we just that predictable?"

Mr. Richards seemed taken aback by my anger. A few months ago, I had been a lot calmer in front of him. It was John that he always had to look out for, not me. I was usually the one telling John not to attack him.

"Come on," EC said, pulling on my arm. She headed toward the wall where we knew a secret door led to a secret room. I gave Marden Richards one last sour look, then began groping along the wall for the crack that was part of the secret door.

"She's not in there," Mr. Richards said. I spun around.

"What do you mean?" I asked, acid filling my voice. I held a serious grudge against this guy, and I think it was a justified grudge.

"I mean what I say. Esther's not in there."

I stared at him, my eyes searching his face. I then decided he was bluffing. "Sure, its not," I agreed sarcastically, "We just wanted to go in there and relive happy memories, anyway."

EC let out a squeak. I turned towards her and found her digging her fingernails into a crack in the wall. She had found the door! I dug my own nails into the crack and together we pulled it open, revealing a dark hole in the wall.

"Let's go!" I said excitedly, groping along the walls in the dark room for a light switch.

"You'll not find what you seek," Mr. Richards commented.

I snorted. "Thanks for the fortune cookie advice," I told him sarcastically. My hand found a bump on the wall: a light switch. I flicked it on and blinked as the overpowering bright light filled the pristine white room. I squinted, not being able to see much in the sudden light.

"NOOOO!" EC hollered, right into my ear. Her hazel eyes must have adjusted to the changing light faster than my blue ones, but I saw the room soon enough.

"What…" I trailed off, my mind spinning. The room was completely empty. Where I was expecting a giant hamster wheel, a huge computer, and a slot machine-type thing, there was nothing. Only clean, white tile and plain walls.

"I warned you," Mr. Richards said in a very annoying I-told-you-so voice.

"Where is it!?" I demanded.

"Gone," he replied.

I clenched my fists. "Where?" I repeated.

He waved his hand in the air. "Gone for good. I suppose I don't really know where. Lewis might."

I was ready to race back downstairs and shake that cat until he told me where it was, but then Mr. Richards got an amused look on his face. "She's not the only thing that can help you, you know."

EC widened her eyes and excitedly asked, "She's not? What else is there?!"

Mr. Richards grinned and stood up out of his seat. He walked out of the room, not bothering to tell us to follow. We were one step behind him anyways.

"As you well know, I can't let you go back and change the past," Marden Richards explained, leading us slowly down the hallway. I was about to interrupt, but he talked over me, continuing his explanation, "But, time is an odd thing. You see, whenever you make a decision between two choices, you not only create your future, but you create an alternative one, too. Do you understand so far?"

I side-glanced at EC. She looked as confused as I was. "Not really," she told him.

"Hm, well let me use an example," he said, "Say you have the choice of turning left or right on a road. You choose left, and so your future is molded accordingly. But, because the other choice is there, another dimension is created, in which you chose the right instead of the left. Both are equally 'real', but you, or at least this version of you, live only in the world of the left path."

I gave him a blank look. Although I was beginning to comprehend what he was trying to explain, it wasn't quite clicking in my mind.

"Now, Old Esther only worked in one dimension, the world as we know it. But there's a different dimension for each individual choice every person makes! Can you imagine all of them?"

"Wait," EC said slowly, "So, every time we make a choice, we split in two?"

Mr. Richards considered this. "I suppose, symbolically, you do."

"What does this have to do with us now?" I asked, trying to wrap my mind around this information.

He grinned. "Well, you want to go see your friends again, don't you? Yup, thought so. And if I were to send you back in time in this dimension, you would be missing from it, upsetting the balance of time and the future. But," he said, emphasizing the word, "If I were to create a new dimension for you where you could go back safely, then you could make the choice to go, effectively 'splitting yourself in two', as EC said, and having one of your splits stay here and go on to the future here."

"While the other one," I said slowly, grasping the concept, "Would go back with the Beatles in the new dimension."

"Quite right!" Mr. Richards said.

"But…" I said, troubled, "What about our splits that have to make the choice to stay here?"

He gave me a confused look. "Well, they'll continue to live the life meant for them here. Although, that's none of your concern, so long as you take the choice of leaving the present for the past."

I thought about the whole dimension concept, then gave up. I supposed it was just one of those things I'd have to accept without fully understanding.

We stopped in front of a door on the opposite end of the hallway.

"Ah, here we are," Marden said cheerily, opening the door. EC and I eagerly stepped into the room. I was disappointed by what I saw.

"You brought us to see your walk-in closet?" I asked grumpily. We were in the room that contained clothes, hats, and shoes from what seemed like every year since the beginning of time. John and I had made fun of some of the clothes when we found the room while cleaning Mr. Richard's house.

"This is very nice and all," EC said, "But I'd rather go see Paul and the others than look at clothes right now."

Mr. Richards shook his head. "No, you don't just look. You get to wear some of them. You can't go to the sixties in clothes from 2011!"

"Oh!" EC said, suddenly excited. She immediately went to a rack with dresses. "These are from the sixties."

"That they are," Mr. Richards agreed.

I walked over to the same rack and began searching for something suitable to wear. I was determined not to wear a dress. I hated dresses with a vengeance, would rather wear jeans and a t-shirt.

"Oh, look! This would look great on you!" EC said, holding up a dress. It was a maroon colored dress with sleeves that would go just past the elbows. There was what looked like a turtleneck. The skirt was about knee-high, which meant it would show off a little more on me.

I stared at it in dismay. "Erm, I don't think so." I went back to looking for pants.

EC shrugged and continued digging in the rack. She pulled out another one and held it up against herself. It was a red trench dress with a slight V-neck and short sleeves. It came down to barely above her knees.

"What do you think?" she asked. I looked at it and pulled my face into a grin.

"Looks nice," I said encouragingly, "You should try it on and see if you like it."

She grinned mischievously. "Not until we find one for you."

I gave her a dry laugh. "Me? In a dress? Ha! Don't think so," I told her.

Mr. Richards jumped in the conversation, not on my side, of course. "Every woman wore a dress in that era. You'll have to do the same. It may be a different dimension, but you shouldn't meddle with it too much. At least try to blend."

Glaring at him, I replied, "All the same, I'm wearing pants. Thanks for the history lesson, though."

Shaking her head, EC argued against me, too. "You're going to have to wear a dress. Come on, it'll be fun! Do it for Johnnie?"

"Never will you get me into a dress. Never."

Of course, twenty minutes later, I was standing with my arms crossed in front of a mirror. EC was standing next to me, looking beautiful in her red dress, smirking at me. I was wearing a pastel blue dress with thin spaghetti straps. It flowed down to a couple inches above my knees, only because the dress was made for someone with a slightly shorter frame.

"You'd look absolutely gorgeous if you would only stop scowling!" EC told me. I stuck my tongue out at her, feeling way too vulnerable in the dress.

"You both look fantastic, almost straight out of the '60s!" Mr. Richards complimented. I gave him another sour look that he ignored. He was apparently getting used to them.

"Ta," EC replied with a little curtsy. She walked over to a large display of shoes and grabbed a pair. They were black kitten pumps. She tried them on and grinned when they fit perfectly.

I had taken off my tennis shoes, because even I knew that you couldn't wear tennis shoes with a dress. But there was no way I was going to wear any of the shoes on the rack. So, glad that I had last-minute packed them, I pulled my black flats out of my backpack. I happened to glance at the pair of shorts I had packed, and got an idea. I took them out and put them on under the dress. Looking in the mirror, I saw that they were completely hidden. I felt much better with a pair of shorts on. Less vulnerable. I put on my flats and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"Ready?" I called to EC, swinging my backpack onto my back.

She grinned. "Let's do this." She put her own backpack strap on her shoulder.

Mr. Richards, who had left the room while we changed, knocked on the door. "Everyone decent?" he asked.

I responded by flinging the door open, half-hoping to hit him in the face. I had no such luck.

"Ah, you're ready then? Good, good. We really should fix your hair, too, but that can be skipped. Follow me into the kitchen, then," Marden told us, leading the way.

"The kitchen?" I mouthed at EC. She shrugged.

Lewis joined us as we walked down the stairs. He sized EC and I up, then seemed to nod in approval. He padded by Mr. Richards' side.

As we reached the kitchen doors, Arnold joined us, followed by Chancey, the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. Arnold wagged his little stub of a tail in excitement as he padded up to EC and me. I reached down to pet him, but Chancey stepped in the way, herding Arnold away from us. Arnold gave me a sad look, but let Chancey herd him away. They walked in front of Mr. Richards, with Lewis a step in front of the dogs.

"Here we are," Marden said as Arnold nosed the kitchen door open. Lewis entered first, with Mr. Richards after him. Arnold held the door open while Chancey stood guard on the other side of the door.

"Nice of him to point out the obvious," I commented to EC as we walked through the door, "I don't think I ever could have figured out where we were without him."

EC gave a little chuckle, but said nothing.

Lewis hopped onto a green kitchen counter. He surveyed the room calmly as the door behind his closed. I noticed that the dogs had not come in the spacious kitchen with us.

"Umm," I began, looking around expectantly. With growing doubt, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. No unexplainable machines, no huge boxes, nothing. "Why are we here?"

Grabbing a small cube of cheese from the fridge, Mr. Richards smiled. "I was hungry. Lewis will show you the rest of the way."

I closed my eyes and fought back my annoyance. Opening them again, I looked at Lewis. "Fine, lead the way, then," I said.

He gave me a haughty look, as if he didn't like being told what to do. But he stood up and neatly hopped down from the counter.

"Where are we going?" EC asked.

Mr. Richards, his mouth full of cheese, pointed at Lewis. Lewis strolled toward a door that I assumed led to the pantry. Although, knowing this house, I shouldn't have expected it to be what a normal house would have.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: On the Streets**

"Whoa."

I agreed completely with EC's assessment of the 'pantry' we were in. Instead of a small room with shelves of food, it was a rather large room with shelves of odds and ends. None of them looked like anything I'd ever seen before. Some were metal contraptions that looked to be made out of random scrap metal. Others were a bit prettier, with gloss paint and a finished look.

"What is this place?" I asked, looking around in awe.

Lewis meowed calmly. "My lab."

I snapped my gaze towards him. "Your lab?" I repeated, "This lab belongs to you? And these… inventions?"

Lewis nodded, then walked up to a large square lump hidden under a sheet. It looked to be about my height, so it was probably around six feet tall, and it was just as wide. He clawed at the sheet until he got a good grip, then pulled it back. Slowly, the sheet followed.

"What's he doing?" EC asked.

"Uncovering something, by the looks of it," I replied, not really sure what his motives were. I hoped he was helping us get back to John, Paul, George and Ringo, but you never really knew in this house.

With a final tug, the sheet fell away. I was looking at two appliances, side-by-side. One was an old freezer, a beige machine with one door, and not much else. The other was a newer-looking silver refrigerator with double doors. Where there was usually a water and ice dispenser, there was a keypad with sixteen colorful buttons. The two appliances were bound together with steel on the top and bottom.

"Whoa."

This time, EC nodded her agreement with my assessment.

Lewis was dragging the sheet away from the mismatching appliances and into a corner. When he finished, he walked in front of where EC and I were still standing there in our dresses, unsure of what to do next.

Meowing, Lewis pawed open the door of the old beige freezer. "Get in."

I looked uncertainly at EC, who was shifting her gaze from Lewis and me. She looked confused, and I remembered that Lewis's words weren't heard by most people.

"Oh, he said to get in," I answered her unspoken question.

"But, what is it?" she asked.

I shrugged. "A dimension machine thing? I don't know. That'd be my guess. Shall we?"

EC looked nervous, but boldly took a step towards the machine. I was a step behind, lugging my guitar with me. We approached the machine. EC stepped inside the hollowed out freezer, and I momentarily wondered how we were going to cram in there with our stuff. As she disappeared to the side, I stepped in, too. The two appliances were hollowed out and the wall that separated them had been removed so it was a more spacious place. Even so, it was a tight squeeze with our backpacks and my guitar.

Lewis's face appeared in the doorway. He meowed. "Ready?"

"Ready?" I asked EC, my stomach doing a little flip-flop dance. It dawned on me how close I was to seeing John again, which made my stomach's dance grow even more excited.

EC nodded, a nervous, but very excited, look on her face. I nodded at Lewis, who backed out. The light faded from our little room as the door began to slowly close. With a snick, it shut tight, leaving us complete darkness.

"Here we go," I murmured, eyes wide in the blackness.

There was a faint tapping sound coming from in front of EC. I could only assume it was Lewis tapping the buttons with an outstretched claw.

Then there was silence. It seemed to stretch on forever, just a never-ending noiselessness. In actuality, I'm sure it was a mere minute or two, but in the pitch black, it seemed like forever.

"What's going on?" EC asked, breaking the awful silence.

"I…" I began, trying to come up with an answer, "I'm not sure."

"Do you think he forgot about us?"

I laughed nervously. "I would hope his memory isn't that bad."

There was another moment of silence.

"Do you smell something?" EC asked.

I sniffed the air. Sure enough, it smelled different. Instead of smelling like a musty old appliance, it began to smell of fresh air. Or at least, fresher air than what we had before. "Yeah, it's a much better smell," I said, closing my eyes and breathing deeply.

"Hey!" EC said excitedly, "Do you hear that?"

I strained my ears and listened. Again, she was right. There was the quiet murmur of voices in a faraway crowd. "Some people coming in the lab?" I guessed.

Suddenly, the wall I was leaning on disintegrated into nothing. I fell back, landing on my backpack. Next to me, EC had done the same.

I looked up and was surprised to see the sky. There were calm gray clouds overhead, drifting lazily. Sitting up, I gasped.

"We made it," I whispered hoarsely. We were lying on a small, deserted road. Lined on either side were houses and buildings made of brick.

EC quickly sat up next to me. "We're here!" she exclaimed, then stood up and turned in a circle, taking in the sights of… whatever city we were in.

I stood up next, feeling cold in my dress. I was used to the summer sun beating down on me. Here, the sun was hiding behind clouds. I was also used to wearing a t-shirt and jeans, clothing that kept me a lot warmer than the little blue dress I was wearing.

"Come on!" EC said, walking down the street.

"Wait," I called after her, jogging to catch up. It was difficult to do while carrying a guitar, not to mention wearing a dress. I was just glad I had flats instead of heels. "Do you know where we are?"

She grinned. "Liverpool would be my guess."

We walked down the street a little farther. I was surprised to see there was nobody around, although I could still hear the murmurs of a crowd.

After a while, I asked, "So, how do we find them?"

She thought about it for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Ask around, I suppose. They've gotta be around here somewhere."

"Sure hope so," I mumbled.

We walked on.

"Where is everyone?" I asked. It seemed odd that nobody was out and about.

"At work, I suppose," EC replied with a shrug, "And school."

I heard footsteps behind us, and turned to see who it was, hoping it was the Beatles. There were four guys, making my face light up. It quickly fell back, though, as I realized they were not the four guys we were looking for.

"Hello," I said, being polite despite my disappointment.

They gave me a strange look. " 'ey," one of them said, nudging his buddy, "This bird's not from around here!"

"No," EC agreed sweetly, "We've come to visit some friends. Do you know where we might find a Paul McCartney? Or perhaps a John Lennon?"

The group shook their heads. "Can't say I've ever heard of 'em," another guy said. He was the only one not wearing a leather jacket. He had on a black sweater instead.

"But ye know," one guy said with a smile that was probably meant to be pleasant, but just looked creepy, "The two of ye can visit us. We can be friends."

"No, sorry," I said, not exactly as kind as I could have, "So you don't know Paul or John? Well, do you know a Ringo Starr?"

"Richard Starkey?" EC added.

The group of boys looked at each other. "Don't know 'im. Ye sure these blokes are around here?"

I sighed. "Well, we thought they were. You don't know a George Harrison either, I suppose."

"No," one guy responded, "But ye look a mite lost. How's about letting us take ye out somewhere?"

"Sweet of you, but no thanks," EC replied, flashing a smile.

"We should go now. Thanks for nothing," I said, turning my back to them. I felt something hit my arm, then my guitar case was snatched out of my hand. I whirled around to see the one in the black sweater running off with my guitar.

"Hold this," I said, shoving my backpack at EC. I then began to sprint after him. The other guys were laughing, but I ignored them, soon leaving them behind.

The guy began to slow down, thinking he was off the hook. I narrowed my eyes and used all my strength to run faster and gain on him.

He turned around, a grin on his face. The grin turned to a look of mild alarm as he saw me racing towards him. "Bloody insane bird," I heard him mumble before he began running again. He was too late though. The guitar slowed him down, and offered me my chance.

"Give it back!" I snarled as I caught up to him and ran beside him for a moment. Then, I grabbed the guitar case and pushed his shoulder away from me as hard as I could. He fell down, but didn't let go of the guitar. I didn't let go either, so I ended up on the ground next to him.

"I knew ye couldn't resist someone like me," he said.

"Piss off!" I replied, anger pulsing through my blood. I took a swing at his face, but he moved just in time.

"Now, now, I don't fight birds," he said.

"Well, I have no qualms about fighting guys!" I growled, attacking his hand that held my guitar. He grabbed my hand and held it still.

"Ye're a feisty one," he said, leaning into my ear.

I led out a scream of pure rage. I twisted out of his grip and stood up, ready to rush him.

As I was about to do this, the rest of the guy's group arrived. They saw me standing there, face red, dress covered in dirt, bleeding from when I fell to the ground, and they surrounded me.

"Are ye ok?" one asked.

"James, ye can't attack a bloody bird!" another said, then turned to me, "So sorry about that."

The third took my arm and inspected where I was bleeding. I shook off his grip. "I'm fine."

" 'ey now!" the guy in the sweater, James, said, "She attacked me! I did nothing to the bird!"

"You stole my guitar," I growled.

The three around me backed up and looked at James. "She attacked ye, did she?"

James nodded.

At that moment, EC arrived on the scene, carrying our two backpacks. "Courtney, are you insane?" she demanded, "You can't go running off in these streets-" She did a double take at my dress, then turned to look at James. "What the bloody hell happened here?"

"He stole my guitar. I want it back," I said simply.

EC smacked her forehead. "Sorry about her," she said, "But it was rude to take her guitar."

James laughed, "It's not worth the trouble anymore. Ye may as well take it back." He pushed the case towards me. I quickly grabbed it and opened it up, checking the damage.

It was ruined. It had been squished, probably from the fall and the fight, and the neck was snapped in three places. I stared at it, my guitar.

When I looked up to yell at someone, they were jogging down the street, laughing at some joke.

"Well," EC said with a sigh, "That went well. Now we know not to attack random guys off the street, hm?"

I grumbled something unintelligible.

"Let's go find Paul," EC said, "And you may as well leave the guitar here. It's done, I'm sorry."

I kicked the case in my anger, then grabbed my backpack from EC. "Fine, the sooner we find them, the better."

So we walked down the street. As we walked farther, more and more people were out. I searched every face, but none of them were familiar. Many faces gave me a disdainful look, as if they disapproved of my soiled dress and grungy backpack.

EC didn't ask anyone else for directions.

Luckily, we ended up not needing directions.

"Hey," I said, nudging EC and secretively pointing at a guy across the street from us, "Doesn't that look like a certain guitarist we know?"

EC followed my gaze and spotted him, too. "GEORGE!" she shouted, waving a hand.

He looked up and saw us. His face looked confused, but he crossed towards us, anyway.

" 'ello," he said as he reached us. His eyes flicked back and forth between our faces. He didn't recognize us, it seemed.

"George!" EC repeated with excitement. "We finally found you!"

"Hey George, how've you been?" I asked, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, seems ye did find me… I'm doing great, ta. How are you? Who are you?"

EC looked crestfallen. "You…you don't remember us?"

"George, do you remember anything about a few days in 2011?"

He jumped back in surprise, his eyes wide. "Ye're those two birds, aren't ye?"

I grinned.

He remembered after all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Warning: Suicide attempt. Please don't kill me! I added too much angst!_

**Chapter 4: Revisiting the Beatles**

"Well," George said, "The two of ye better follow me. The others should know ye're here!"

"Let's go!" EC said excitedly. I grinned in agreement.

George led us through the streets, filling us in on what had happened since they all got back. "Ringo's been doing ok since he got back, perhaps drinking more than he should, but otherwise he's handled it pretty well. Paul's been moping ever since he got back. He jus sits and stares into space most of the time, poor bloke."

EC let out a noise of sympathy.

"And John, well…" George began, shaking his head, "John's a mess. I mean, even more than normal. He still hasn't forgiven Paul and Ringo. Hopefully, ye being here can help mend that rift."

"Hopefully," I agreed, anxious to see John again.

"But George," EC said, "How did you get back?"

George grinned. "I'm not completely sure. I know I was going out to get some fresh air, then I got lost. Luckily, these two dogs came out of nowhere and herded me back onto a main street. From there, I knew how to get back to yer place, but the dogs wouldn't let me go that way. They led me to a little wood, instead. I walked through it, then found meself in a park in Liverpool instead of the one I had entered. The dogs were gone."

"Well, I suppose that's one way to get back…" I said slowly, wondering how that could have worked. As with the dimension theory, I gave up and just accepted that it did work.

"So those dogs are like Lewis," EC commented happily.

There was a moment of silence as we turned another corner. Then, George said, "Here we are."

We were in front of a small building. It looked slightly run-down, but I could see it was packed. People were going in and out of the front door in streams. The sign above the door was impossible to read; it was faded so badly.

"Erm… Where exactly are we?" I asked.

"I've got to find Ringo. He's probably here. John may be here with 'im." George explained, opening the door for us.

I stepped through, straining to find John in the crowd. The place was packed with people, most drinking some sort of alcoholic beverage. I saw a whole lot of mugs with foamy liquid in the dimly lit room. I scanned the faces of the people drinking them, but none looked familiar.

I heard EC take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I knew how she felt. Too many people in one place was not a happy sight for either of us. But I wasn't going to let that stop me from finding John.

George began to move through the crowd, greeting random people by name. EC and I began to follow him, thinking he was our only hope of ever finding the other Beatles. We weren't about to lose him in the crowd.

" 'ey, look at tha' bird!" some drunk called out. There were wolf-whistles and cat-calls suddenly coming from all sides. I had no idea whether they were pointed at EC or me, and I didn't really want to find out.

George seemed to be deaf to the attention pointed at EC or me.

Suddenly, a loud voice hollered out to us from the crowd. "Tha' one's mine," it slurred. None of the other voices in the crowd sounded quite as drunk as this one.

"Erm, George," I murmured, poking his shoulder, "Should we be worried if someone just claimed one of us as their's?"

He turned to look at me, giving a little shrug. "Depends on who said it," he answered, then continued walking.

"Ah, of course," I said to his turned back with sarcasm.

"I really hope whoever that was, they weren't talking about us," EC worried. I agreed.

We followed George some more, walking slowly through the mob of people. The small room seemed a lot bigger when you were trying to find someone.

"Oi!" hollered the really loud drunk, sounding much closer now, "Quit lookin at 'er. I told ye, tha' one's mine!"

I turned nervously towards where the voice was coming from. Nobody stood out.

"Maybe he's not talking about either of us," suggested EC hopefully.

She was wrong. As soon as we turned away to continue following George, I felt something grip my dress and pull.

"Hey!" I shouted, automatically going to smack whatever had a hold on me.

"Oi! Ye and me are… we're gonna go for a walk together, jus… jus ye and me," the man slurred, still gripping my dress despite being smacked on the head. He was wearing a leather jacket and dark pants.

I pulled back my arm to take another swing, glaring at whoever was kneeling on the floor, too drunk to stand, pulling on my dirty blue dress. Then, I saw more clearly.

"John?!" I gasped, lowering my arm.

He looked up and I saw his face. His beautiful face with his nose, straight and hooked. And his brown eyes that I had stared into so many times. It really was John.

"John!" I shouted happily, squatting down to his level.

"Do… do I know ye?" he slurred, confusion written clearly on his drunken face.

I could have cried. Instead, I told myself that he was too drunk to tell the difference between a dragon and a dragonfly. I refused to cry in front of all these people. "John," I choked, then cleared my throat, "John, it's me. It's Courtney. It's Mooncow…" I wrapped my arms around his neck. I could hear the mob of people poking fun at us, saying how John had found a real easy way to pick up a girl.

" 'ello, love," John said, wrapping his arms around me. I was thrilled! He did remember me, even in his state of drunkenness.

"John," I sobbed, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

To my dismay, John didn't respond. Not only that, but he began to grope around the back of my dress, fumbling to try to take it off of me.

"What the hell, John?" I said, pushing him away. He landed on his bum. I straightened up, wiping away the tears on my cheeks. I realized I was just another girl figure to him.

"Oh, ye found John," George said, grabbing John's hand and pulling him up. I was surprised he could do it; John didn't seem to put any of his own effort into getting up.

"Would ye bloody let go of me, ye arsehole?!" John raged, wrenching his hand away from George.

George quickly grabbed his shoulder, steadying him as he began to fall back to the floor. "Never seen 'im this bad," George commented, "He usually recognizes me, at least."

John took a clumsy swing at George, who ducked easily out of the way.

"Fight back, ye bloody scouser!" John yelled, taking another swing. George easily avoided that one, too. "Fight back or piss the hell off!"

"John, it's yer mate, George."

"I don't care what yer name is, and yer not me mate!"

George rolled his eyes. "Reasoning with a pissed John, what was I ruddy thinking?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else. He then turned to John and said, "Right, then. John, we're leaving."

"No, 'm not going anywhere with ye!" John protested with a growl.

George shrugged and began to pull John towards the door anyway. John was fighting back, but his reflexes were slow and easy for George to take advantage of.

As EC and I began to follow, George turned back towards us. "Could ye two find Ringo for me, please? I'll be waiting outside with John. Ta." I was about to protest, but the crowd had moved into the gap between George and EC and me, so we couldn't see him anymore. He left EC and I alone inside the bar.

"So… Where do you think Ringo is?" I asked EC.

EC shrugged. "Dunno. Guess we should just look around and hope he's here."

So we began to walk again, pushing through the crowd as we ignored all the yelling aimed at us. Girls apparently didn't walk around without a date in here too often.

"Hope Ringo's not as slobbering drunk as John was," I said bitterly, squinting at the crowd in the dim light.

"At least you found John," EC said, an edge of bitterness in her voice as well.

We silently scanned the crowd for a while, walking in random directions. There was still no sign of Ringo.

"How long until we give up?" EC asked with a sigh.

I shrugged, standing on my toes to see farther. "Let's walk around the perimeter once instead of going in circles in the midst of everyone," I suggested.

So we made our way to the wall, somehow finding a path through the mob of people. We reached a corner with a small table. There were four people sitting at the table, chatting as they drank.

"Is that-" I asked, then stopped myself. What had looked like Ringo moments before, I saw was really someone else entirely. "Nevermind."

"No, you're right, it is him!" EC said with relief. I was about to correct her, when I saw her gaze was locked onto someone else. I squinted at him.

"Ringo!" I called out. EC waved a hand in the air. The man looked towards us, then said a quick word to the group of people he was talking to. He laughed at something, then started walking our way.

"What is it?" he asked, sounding a little tired.

EC raised an eyebrow. "Don't you wanna ask us who we are, first?"

Ringo looked at her for a moment. Then he turned his gaze to me. Finally, he said in an apologetic tone, "Look, if I was talking to ye one night here, 'm sorry if I can't recall it. There's a lot of people that I talk- Oi! Wait jus a moment! I know the two of ye!"

EC and I laughed. "Glad you remember," I said, "Now, George is waiting outside with John."

"Is he? Well, I s'pose we shouldn't keep 'im waiting." Ringo slammed his drink, then led the way to the door.

"So, Ringo," I began, trying to make conversation over the drunken roar of the crowd, "How have you been?"

Either he didn't hear, or he ignored me. I didn't try to strike up a conversation again.

We left the crowded bar and gratefully breathed in the cool air. The sun was just setting.

"There ye are," George said. He was holding up John on his shoulder, who was slumped against him, appearing to be passed out.

"Here we are," agreed Ringo, "And these birds are here, too."

"So we are," I agreed.

"Paul's not here," EC stated. She looked hopefully at George, then Ringo.

George tried to take a step with John leaning solely on him. It didn't work very well. George tripped over something, although I couldn't see anything there, and stumbled forward. He narrowly avoided falling.

"I'll help ye," Ringo said, putting John's other limp arm around his shoulder, "Alright, so should we go to Paul's then?"

"YES!" EC shrieked happily. She looked embarrassed for a second, then shrugged it off.

George nodded. "Alright." He and Ringo began to half-carry, half-drag John down the street. It was an odd-looking task, with George being taller than Ringo. John's weight ended up being mostly on Ringo because of it.

"Erm… Isn't there an easier to get him to Paul's?" I asked, watching the boys struggle. I would have tried to help, but I couldn't quite figure out how I could be useful.

"Can't we take a cab or something?" suggested EC.

"Do ye got the money for tha'?" grunted George.

I was about to tell him that I did, in fact, have money, but EC saved me an embarrassing comment.

"Only American dollars…" she sighed as I realized my near-blunder.

"In tha' case, this is what we've gotta do," George said.

We walked on a little further, very slowly. EC was bursting with energy and impatience, but Ringo and George were having trouble. Especially Ringo, who carried the brunt of John's weight. John's head also lolled on top of Ringo's.

"Bad breath," grunted Ringo, turning his face away from John.

I sighed and handed my backpack to EC. She gave me a questioning look. I knew what I had to do. After seeing Ringo suffer, I felt bad, and once the idea to help out entered my mind, there was no way to back out. It was how my brain worked, and it sucked.

"Ringo, move over," I ordered, squeezing in between him and John. George gave me a funny look.

"No, ye can't," Ringo said, fighting against me, "I got 'im, ye can walk on yer own."

"No," I replied with determination, "You're struggling. Go help EC for a while. I'll help George for as long as I can. If I need you to come back, I'll tell you, ok? Move."

Ringo hesitated, then shrugged and did as he was told, keeping an eye on me as I slung John's arm over my shoulder. Now the height was more even, giving George and I equal weight to bear.

"Ye're an odd bird," George commented.

"Ta," I replied as we dragged John down the street. Ringo was right. John's breath smelled terrible.

A while later, we stopped at a little place. It looked like every other house on the street.

"Paul's house?" EC asked excitedly.

"That it is," Ringo replied. He had taken both backpacks to carry.

George grunted and began walking towards the building. EC was ahead of him, knocking happily on the door. I followed George's lead, grateful we were finally there. My back and shoulder hurt from holding up John and I was tired. I was ready to fall asleep on the next comfortable-looking surface I saw.

Ringo went to the side of the door and reached into a small crack in the wall. He pulled out something small and shiny and fit it into the keyhole. He turned the knob and gestured that EC could go in. She did so very quickly and with much excitement.

George and I, lugging John, went in with much less enthusiasm, but with a whole lot of relief.

"Let's put 'im there," George said, nodding his head towards a tan couch.

I nodded, then walked with George to the couch. We somehow managed to get John laying on it.

I stood up straight, then stretched my back, wincing at the pain.

"Ye're a real odd bird, ye know that?" George commented again.

"So I've been told."

George shrugged, then walked across the room and opened a door. I followed, not really knowing where I was supposed to go. I found myself in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" George asked, opening a cupboard.

I shrugged. "Yeah, kind of." I was starving. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, many hours ago. Or rather, many years in the future of another dimension. Either way, my stomach was growling.

Unfortunately, there was a scream from elsewhere in the house, so I wasn't going to eat quite yet. I looked at George, then we dashed out of the room towards where the scream was coming from.

"Up here!" George said, racing towards the stairs at a nearly inhuman speed. I followed as close as possible.

"PAUL!" I heard him shout as I rounded a corner. He was standing in a door way with his back towards me, blocking my view of the room past the doorway.

But I could hear just fine.

"Paul, no!" I heard EC cry. I pushed past George with some difficulty and looked into the room. Paul was standing on a chair, his neck in a noose tied to some random hook on the ceiling.

"Bloody hell, Paul," sobbed EC, "Don't do this, just don't!"

Paul looked straight at her, tears streaming down his face. "This is how crazy I am for ye," he said sadly, "I'm even imagining ye as if ye were really here. I made a mistake in coming back. A mistake I can't live with."

With that, he took one foot and ferociously kicked the back of the chair. It fell down, making Paul drop a few inches, dangling from the rope around his neck.

"PAUL!" EC cried.

At the same time, George rushed past me and grabbed Paul's legs. He got under him and stood up, so Paul was sitting on his shoulders instead of hanging from the rope. His head lolled to the side as George held him up.

George looked over at me. "Well, don't just stand there!" he barked, "Get this rope off 'is neck!" I could see he was more shaken than he let on.

I was shocked, too, but George's orders brought me out of my frozen shock. I quickly grabbed the chair lying on the floor and righted it. I clambered up and stood up slowly, making sure I was balanced on the wobbly chair. Then, I carefully loosened the noose around Paul's neck and pulled it over his head. I was relieved to hear quiet breathing, shallow as it was, coming from him.

"Ok," I called down to George.

He walked slowly over to the bed with Paul hunched over like some overgrown child that had fallen asleep while enjoying a piggy-back ride. George seemed to be struggling with the weight of an extra body.

EC had rushed to his side and was holding one of Paul's hands. "Why, Paul, why?" she was muttering through her tears.

" 'ey, can ye help lay 'im on the bed?" George asked.

The two of them managed to gently place him on the clean white bed as I removed the rope from the hook in the ceiling.

"Come on, Paul, wake up," EC pleaded, laying down next to him with her head resting gently on his chest.

George began to inspect his neck, bruised an ugly purple.

"Should I call a doctor or something?" I asked, stepping down off the chair.

My question was ignored as George gently trailed his fingers over the bruise. Paul's eyes snapped open. His lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a dry croak. He tried to clear his throat, then just moaned in pain.

"PAULIE!" EC cried with joy. She began to kiss his face.

Paul stared at her for a moment, mistrust in his eyes.

"Paul, ye bastard!" George scolded, making Paul turn his eyes that direction, "Ye scared us to death! What were ye bloody thinking?!"

EC's mind was a step in front of George's, though. "I'm here, love, it's really me. Ye're not hallucinating," she assured him.

Paul blinked , then let a small smile spread across his face. "It's ye," he croaked with a grimace. He put one hand on his throat, trying to soothe the pain, and he wrapped the other arm around EC.

"Yeah," she agree, smiling as tears rolled down her cheeks and plopped onto Paul's shirt, "it's me. And I'm not leaving ye."

With a glance at George, I walked out of the room. He followed after one final concerned look at Paul.

I headed back down the stairs, thinking about how lucky we were that we had been in the house when the event occurred. I couldn't even imagine being here with only three of the four Beatles. It wouldn't have seemed right. All the time we had spent together that summer had brought EC and me close to them, possibly even close enough to consider ourselves a part of their circle of friends. Although I supposed it really wasn't much time, it just felt like it.

I found the living room where John was passed out on the couch and sat down in a large armchair, knowing I needed quiet time to think. John's actions had really cut deep that night, and I could only wonder why Paul felt the need to attempt suicide. I knew I needed to sort out the day's events so they could make at least some sense! What I didn't know was that my body needed sleep even more than thought.

_The elevator was back. I could see it, far away, beyond a lit path. For once, I didn't long to get on the elevator. I had already done that, what was the point of doing it again?_

_But there was nothing else to look at in the dark world, so I walked up to the elevator anyways. It was farther away than it looked. By the time I reached it, my feet were sore and my back ached._

_Although, as I thought about it, I didn't really know when my feet and back started to hurt. They could have been hurting before I started walking, for all I knew._

_I_

_ neared the elevator door. Right away I could see it was different than the other elevator. This one was shiny and new, and there was no plaque that read a year. Instead, there was a computer screen to the side of the door. It showed a few pictures of skyscrapers, cars, and fast food. Then, the number 2011 popped up on the screen._

_I turned around, not interested in an elevator that led to that year. Didn't I just escape from that floor? As I began walking away, I heard the doors slide open._

_"Piss off, love," I heard a familiar voice say in a gruff, uncaring tone that made my heart break. Turning around, I saw John in the elevator. He quickly stepped out, then gestured for me to go in._

_"No," I said._

_John shrugged and grinned. He pushed something on the computer screen, then backed off to the side. A loud roar began._

_"What did you do?" I asked. My question was answered quickly, though. I felt something sucking at my clothes, pulling them towards the door._

_"NOOO!" I shouted, then began to run away from the vacuum elevator. I found I was running in place. That soon changed to me being pulled back, despite my best efforts._

_I began to cry as I was pulled closer and closer into the elevator. I turned to John. "Help," I pleaded._

_He grinned, then walked away, leaving me to fight the suction on my own._

I awoke with a gasp. I was sprawled out sideways on an armchair. Someone had put a blanket over me and put a pillow under my head.

I was confused as I looked around the dark room, but I soon remembered that I was at Paul's house. And that John was the lump on the couch a few feet away.

Hoping the next day would be better, I curled up and closed my eyes once again.

* * *

_Author's Note: My friend, EC, wrote Paul's suicide from his POV in an attempt to justify it. I think she's a great writer and I'm including her bit below._

_Quick Warning: Language and, again, suicide attempt._

* * *

_I'm there again. I'm always there in me dreams, now. 'M in the future. I can never quite make out where, and to be honest, I can't bring meself to care. The reason being that _she's _there again. _

_When I first see her, she's always smiling, as happy as I've ever seen her. But as I draw closer, the smile fades. Her eyes lose their sparkle and replace it with tears. Realizing I'm hurting her, I try to stop, but it never works. _

_Suddenly, she vanishes, just like she has every night since I came back. And tha goddamned man is there. _

_"Sorry, Mr. McCartney," he tells me, a smirk across his face, "Time wouldn't have unraveled at all. It would have been fine. But you didn't think of that, now, did you? Oh well, that's too bad." Mock sorrow dripping from his last words. _

_I'm on a path, then, trying to find my way back to her house. Just as I get there, I see the house is vacant. She's gone._

I sit upright in me bed, trying to slow me breathing. Telling meself it's just a dream; I did the right thing in the end. But that damn voice in the back of my head speaks up.

"It could've been alright. Ye've left her for nothing."

I'm driving meself mad and I know it, but what can I do? It's like bloody Romeo and Juliet, I fell so bloody hard for her, and now I just can't stop thinkin' about her.

"But Romeo and Juliet ended up dying," the voice remarks cynically.

It's murder on me; I can't think straight. I can't sing or play anything; I end up thinking about her again.

"Bloody love songs," I mutter to meself as I stumble into the sitting room.

Ringo's tried to convince me to get another bird, like I did after Dot. But I find meself thinking about her, and not the bird that's throwin' herself at me. Geo says it was probably a dream, but I don't believe him. Not when we all dream the same thing.

I see something out of the corner of my eye and jump, hoping she's followed me, or even that it's Richards, telling me she's alright. But there's nothing there. Just me kitchen, the way it's always been. I sit down, rubbing me eyes, and I see them again. Her eyes. Fucking hell. They're always there, whenever I close my eyes. Just the way I last saw them, red and tear-filled.

Why? Why'd I do it?

"Cos it was right! Cos she might've died if I hadn't!" I scream out loud.

I realize I'm alone. I've been yelling at emptiness.

"I did what was right. I kept her safe," I whisper to the silence.

But how do ye know she's safe?

I try to dismiss that, there's no reason she wouldn't be alright… but… I don't know that…

Ye left her. God knows what happened after ye left.

"Fuck… 's not like that! I… I…"

What if, when ye left, it unraveled time then? What if ye killed her by leaving?

Something breaks in me then. With the realization that I could've killed her. I can't do it. I can't keep wondering about her. It's got to stop.

I don't know when I got back here, in me room, but I know why. I take the chair I've played me bass on so many times, and line it up with a hook that's been in me ceiling since forever. Never did find out where it came from. I also dig up a rope I used to help move here; I never tossed it because I thought I might use it someday.

But not like this…

John had shown me once, perhaps just to be odd, how to make a noose. I had watched, yeah, but it took a few tries to remember all of what he had said. As I put everything into place, I had to wonder if it was worth it. If giving all this up just because she wasn't here was overreacting. There's other birds in the world, right?

But not like her.

I couldn't bring myself to deny that.

She didn't deserve what ye did.

Another valid point.

I closed my eyes, trying to think clearly. It was no surprise that I couldn't. She was there, smiling because of something I said. The next second was her as I was leaving, the expression as I feigned leaving to trick John.

That was all I needed. I climbed up, knowing this would allow me to escape that guilt. Noose around my neck, I was ready to end all this shite.

But the door opened and someone screamed. A bird, by the sound of it. She was there, my EC, looking at me like I murdered someone.

Ye did. Ye murdered her.

George rounded the corner and yelled my name.

It's not real. She's not real.

"Paul, no!" EC said, taking a step towards me.

Ye killed her, and now ye've gone mad. Just end it already.

Mooncow appeared in the doorway, a bit like an afterthought.

"Bloody hell, Paul!" EC said, "Don't do this, don't!"

I wanted to believe she was here and ok after all.

That's impossible and ye know it. Ye've murdered the girl ye love, McCartney, and it's time to face the consequences.

"This is how crazy I am for ye," I said, hardly realizing it was out loud, "'M even imagining ye as if ye were actually here."

I could feel the guilt coursing in my veins. I couldn't take it.

"I made a mistake in coming back. A mistake I can't live with."

Now, McCartney, NOW!

I kicked the chair away and briefly felt the sensation of falling before everything went black.

Me neck hurts like hell. And I'm laying down. That's all I know. I can hear people talking, and there's something resting on me chest.

Something runs across me neck in the exact place that aches the worst, and me eyes snap open. I almost moan at the pain, but all that comes out is a funny little noise. I attempt to clear my throat, but that makes the pain even worse.

"PAULIE!"

I can't focus on the pain too long, though, as I'm almost thrown back into me bed. It's EC, and she's kissing me, just like she used to before…

Suddenly, all the doubts rush back into me mind, and I pull away to look at her.

"It's me, love, ye're not hallucinating," she says softly.

There's something about her that makes me believe it. Something that wasn't there in the dreams. Relief floods through me as I realize my EC is okay, and with me.

As much as I want to say, all I can manage is, "It's ye."


End file.
